Greg clutched his fishbowl head dramatically, pacing back and forth, his tiny horse legs clomping on the floor. "So it started with a science experiment!" he exclaimed, his voice booming with theatrical flair. "I mixed a liquid called Stellavex Serum—the shimmering essence of starlight harvested from dying suns—and a liquid called Cryovolt Elixir, distilled from the core of frozen lightning storms." He paused only for a second before throwing his tiny, detachable hands in the air.
"And then—BOOM! My planet BLOWS UP! Turns out Stellavex is highly reactive to our atmosphere. Who knew? I mean, honestly, who even reads the warnings on experimental concoctions? Not me! Anyway, my lab is GONE, my dog—well, he flew into space, still barks sometimes, I hear him. Oh, and my neighbor? Fried to a crisp!"
Greg's words tumbled out faster and faster, like a faucet left wide open. His pacing grew frantic as Adam the guitarist, seated in the corner, raised an eyebrow. Without a word, Adam picked up his guitar and started strumming a lively rumba beat, the rhythm somehow syncing perfectly with Greg's increasingly chaotic rant.
Greg didn't miss a beat. "So now I'm hurtling through space on what? A taco rocket ship! Yeah, don't ask me why—long story! The cheese fumes nearly asphyxiated me, but it's fine, I survived because I'm Greg, and Greg does not DIE!"
Adam's strumming picked up pace, and the Fool began tapping his feet, humming a whimsical tune. The room itself shimmered and warped. Suddenly, the Fool's whimsical hotel melted away, replaced by the vivid scenes Greg described.
Now they were in Greg's lab. The walls pulsed with green light, shelves stacked high with bizarre vials and swirling liquids. As Greg continued, the lab burst apart in a violent explosion, sending the Fool spinning and Adam into a dramatic flamenco riff.
Greg leapt onto the Fool's bed, now transformed into his taco rocket ship. "Then there was the asteroid belt—dodged it, barely! But OH, the SPACE PIRATES!" The room shifted again, the walls becoming the black expanse of space, stars glittering as menacing pirate ships surrounded them. Greg grabbed a wooden spoon from the Fool's kitchen and used it as a makeshift sword, fighting invisible foes.
"And then—AND THEN! I land on this tiny moon, right? Completely deserted, except for a talking cactus! He said his name was Bob, and I'm like, 'Bob? That's not very moon-like, but okay!' And Bob tells me there's this crazy wormhole that'll take me to this planet, and guess what? BOOM, I'm here!"
The Fool clapped enthusiastically, still swaying to the rhythm of Adam's guitar.
"Oh, I like this one," the Fool said, pointing
at Greg as though he'd just discovered a
rare artifact. "You've got flair! Style! A little
bit of madness! You'll fit right in."
Adam, still seated, leaned back in his chair, strumming idly. "Yeah, Greg," he drawled, "real riveting story. But why don't you tell us the part where you didn't blow up your planet? Oh wait, you did." He smirked, his fingers teasing out a mocking tune.
Greg crossed his tiny arms, glaring up at Adam. "Listen, Guitar Boy, do you know what happens when you combine Stellavex Serum with Cryovolt Elixir? No? Exactly. So maybe zip it, huh?"
The Fool, sensing the tension, hopped between them with a flourish. "Now, now, gentlemen, let's not squabble. Greg, you're here now, safe and sound—well, mostly sound—and that's all that matters."
Greg huffed but allowed himself to be led by the Fool. "Alright, fine. Show me this place of yours. It better be worth all the trouble I went through to get here."
The Fool clapped his hands, and with that simple gesture, the hotel shimmered again. This time, the walls stretched and twisted, forming a vast, winding corridor lined with doors of every shape and size. Each door seemed alive, shifting colors and textures as if beckoning them inside.
Greg's fishbowl head tilted. "What... what is this?" he asked, his voice dripping with awe.
"This," the Fool said with a theatrical bow, "is my humble abode! A place of infinite possibilities, where each door leads to a world of wonder, chaos, or perhaps just a really nice sandwich. Depends on the day, really."
Greg squinted at one particularly large door covered in glowing runes. "And what's behind that one?"
"Ah," the Fool said, wagging a finger, "curiosity killed the spaceman! But since you asked..." He swung the door open, revealing a sprawling jungle made entirely of neon-colored plants. Strange creatures with glowing eyes peered out from the foliage, and a river of liquid light snaked through the landscape.
Before Greg could respond, the Fool slammed the door shut and gestured to another. "But maybe this one's more your speed!"
This door opened to reveal a bustling cityscape on a planet with three suns. Hovering vehicles zipped by, and robotic beings of all shapes and sizes filled the streets.
Greg's jaw dropped. "You've got entire worlds in here?"
The Fool grinned. "Well, not entire worlds. Just pieces. Fragments. Little slices of the infinite. Enough to keep things interesting, you know?"
Adam, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "He collects them, like postcards. Except instead of paper, it's... well, this."
Greg turned to the Fool, his excitement bubbling over. "Alright, you've got my attention. What's the catch?"
"No catch," the Fool said cheerfully, spinning on his heel. "Just enjoy the ride. You've got a room here now, Greg. Consider yourself... a guest of honor!"
Greg hesitated, glancing around at the ever-shifting corridor. "A guest of honor, huh? Alright, Fool, I'll play along. But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you."
The Fool's grin widened. "Oh, I wouldn't have it any other way."
As they continued down the corridor, the environment shifted again, and the walls gave way to a grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and a soft, melodic tune filled the air. The Fool grabbed Greg's detachable hand and twirled him around. "Welcome to the dance floor!"
Greg stumbled, his tiny legs struggling to keep up. "Wait, what? I didn't agree to—"
"Too late!" the Fool declared, pulling Adam into the fray as well. Adam groaned but strummed his guitar in time with the music, creating a lively rhythm.
And so, in the middle of this ever-changing hotel, the three of them danced—Greg awkwardly stumbling, Adam grumbling but playing along, and the Fool laughing with wild abandon.
For the first time in a long while, Greg felt... at home.
"Well," the Fool said with a grin, "I can see why you need a room."
Greg, responded Friend! Maybe I'll stay
here for a while....